Dear friends, family, colleagues and poetry lovers:
In April this year my new and 12th collection of poems SCANNING THE SOUL – Finding the Poetry in Everyday Life will be published.
The poetry is accessible, positive and meditative. I have attached three samples of the poetry you can expect. Each poem is also supported with an original photograph or painting.
All proceeds from the sale of this book will be used for the construction of wells to provide clean water for Cambodian villages. In addition, a new project is underway to send six Cambodian village girls to school.
The book will retail for $30. You can order a copy from me for $25 (2 for $40) post-free.
I know you will enjoy the work and perhaps consider it as a special and different gift for someone.
Love and best wishes
like soft yellow, warm
the air is fully laden
with golden light
and the cologne spray
of star jasmine
the world is green deep
ripe and sweet
I pluck the moment
and bite the day to its core.
It is recorded that Michelangelo could see
a new sculpture in a raw piece of marble.
This morning watering I brushed the rosemary hedge
all day savoured its woody pine lemon on my hands
found a small blessing in the blackbird’s song
hidden notes from the dark thorny safety
of bright raspberry-ice of rampant bougainvillea
later with coffee, I picked my father’s legacy
of two ripe white Syrian figs
and needed no sugar in my cup
and all I know this afternoon
is that this scent of new mown grass
connects memory in a long languid
chain of ancient days
that compose all of my senses
into an absolutely ordinary poem.
I lit the fire early in a grate of ice
fruit wood and wrist-thick old briar
catching quickly and climbing in coils
spreading along the ceiling of the low-roofed sky
I pulled an old garden chair to its rough hearth
to the spit and hiss of rose oil
and the sweet fume of sawn apricot and peach
sunk in a warm corner of the garden framed with cold
Inertia was everything, moving only for books and coffee
my breath a small bellows in the aching air
late afternoon the grass still rimed with white
a gathering shortness drew up the flight of hours
to the dark squat chimney of the evening and the coals
of morning, a ramble of rose hips and bright orange fruit.
To order: firstname.lastname@example.org